


Come Cut Me Open

by diefleder_tey



Category: Kanjani8 (Band)
Genre: Abuse, Blood, Body Horror, Gen, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mind Fuck, dark themes, first person POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-28
Updated: 2015-10-28
Packaged: 2019-04-05 06:28:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14038191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diefleder_tey/pseuds/diefleder_tey
Summary: Ryo knows how to fix it.  Ryo knows how to get the itch, the infected, the deep burning rotting invader out.  Ryo will make everything better...





	Come Cut Me Open

**Author's Note:**

> This is a ficlet from the Trope Challenge; the assigned trope for this fic was "Dark Fic." Like other Trope Challenge works it's short and more of a ficlet. It's also super dark and really messed up, lol. Although it's purposefully written in an obscure way so it's probably more confusing than anything else (let the character tags be your guide at the end...).

Ryo knows things.

He reads random things, random books on different topics and so he knows things, knows a lot. So I ask him, I ask him what to do about it. What to do about the itch. The itch in my side that won't go away, won't stop burning no matter what I put on it.

He says I've scratched it raw.

Normally I wouldn't ask. It's not the kind of thing that needs to be shared and even if it were it's not something everyone or anyone needs to know. But Ryo knows things and Ryo...I feel comfortable around him. Familiar. Even when he yells, even when he's angry at me, even when we fight it feels okay. He can, I trust him. Even when he calls me an idiot.

So I ask him about the itch, when no one else is around. It's gross. He says it looks gross. I scratched too hard, what was I thinking.

At first he doesn't understand and it's annoying. It's in there, it's in right there and it's causing the itch. I expect him to tell me to go see a doctor but he knows I don't want to. So he rolls his eyes and I can't hide my embarrassment. I try hiding behind a laugh. He doesn't look pleased.

My face is pathetic. I ask him.

"If it's making it itch, then get it out," he grumbles.

And I do. Or I try. It doesn't go quite right.

The scratching, it wasn't to stop the gnawing but to scratch it out, pull it out of its bed by my nails. It went red, then it went raw, and then I couldn't just leave it alone. So get it out, he says. Tweezers, a needle, nails, magnifying glass, I think maybe I need a knife. This isn't working. I want to reach in and pull it out, but I can't find where it went.

"Idiot, get it out," Ryo remarks, when he's seen what I've done.

Okay. The tip of the knife barely goes into what's already open and it pokes around blindly. It's not helping, it's making it worse. Ryo can't believe what he's seeing. "Do you _stab_ things out?"

No, you cut, then you pull. It hurts, it really does, but it doesn't take long before the itch, then the sore spot, then prick, now the hole, is open enough where I think I can poke in. I can put a fingertip in and touch the problem. Dig, dig a little more. It has to come out.

Ryo agrees.

Before long he has bandages, rolls of gauze to wrap around my stomach. "You can't just leave things open," he grumbles.

See? Ryo knows things. He knows what's wrong. He knows the cure.

I can't help but smile.

He notices, scowls.

I know. I'm a pain. His glare means he cares. I know Ryo, Ryo doesn't waste his time and energy on just anything. Or anyone.

The itch is gone. But it isn't. It. It's down in there, down in the tissue, the muscle. I just need to open things a little more and when I start taking out a chunk, plopping the wet wad of pulp to the floor, I expect Ryo to yell, to look disgusted, to be horrified.

"If it's bothering you," he says instead, "you've got to get it out."

It is bothering me. It doesn't belong there. It's not part of me and it's just sinking deeper down. If I cut it out, it'll be gone.

"Idiot."

Maybe I've cut too much. It's okay. I don't miss what's going.

"Not so much," he says. He knows how to stop the blood. Ryo knows how to fix what I start. "Cut further in, like this."

I ask Ryo when no one else is around, so I don't have to take off the mask. When I tell him I think it's spread to my arm, he nods. It is in my arm. Like a cancer, like a maw - eating away what's right. He's angry about it, angry at me and in general, but he wants to help. He's worried. He wants to see me do my best. He wants me to know. He's angry because things matter to him. It's embarrassing how much he really cares.

I'm embarrassed too.

Next, into the bicep - a cut and a scoop. These things have to go. They have to go. Everything needs to be fixed.

"Yeah," Ryo agrees. Legs too. It's in the legs.

Everything needs to be open.

I ask Ryo, because he knows. He's read so much. He understands these things.

Someday, I'll ask him to sift through the piles of me.

It's in there, barking, breathing, throbbing and alive. It needs to come out. It needs to go.

"It does," he tells me.

"Ryo, it's in my brain."

He nods. So it is. The brain must go.

"You're a fucking mess," he tells me.

He seems upset about that. I guess I understand.

When I turn my head, I'm surprised to see Maru by my side. He's probably been here long. He has my hand in his. He's not bothered by it. At least, not the hand - the bandages make a good barrier. Almost as white as the walls and the sheets of the bed. I'm happy to see him, I almost have tears in my eyes and it's embarrassing. It's disgusting how much I missed him. More disgusting than my hand. Or my side. Or my face.

"Why are you doing this?" Maru asks.

He doesn't understand. I've told him the same things too and he doesn't look horrified. Just sad.

"You need to rip it out," I tell him.

Maru just looks at me, despair and tears, until he opens his mouth and it finally comes out. "Ryo, stop, why are you doing this to yourself?"

Because I asked. Because he told me. Ryo know things, he knows how to fix it.

He knows how to fix me.

He knows how to fix us.


End file.
